


Blame it on the Mistletoe

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: All hail the Garbage King and Nerd Queen, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Jiya Knows All, Rufus Plots, Save Timeless, Save Timeless fanworks exchange, garcy, gratuious use of mistletoe, it goes better than you might think, riya - Freeform, we attempt to smush two (2) awkward turtles together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-11 13:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: Lucy's a mature adult, it's not like a plant can control her behaviour, but...Where's the fun in that?





	Blame it on the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mks57](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mks57/gifts).



> This is for [female-fogbank](http://female-fogbank.tumblr.com/)'s prompt Lucy/Flynn - Mistletoe. Happy Timeless Day!

There was mistletoe in the bunker.

No one would admit to putting it up, but Lucy suspected Rufus.  Part of it was an excuse to kiss Jiya, she was sure—not that he needed an excuse, but it was exactly the kind of cutesy stunt he would pull.  It was probably also an attempt to get everyone to lighten up in the face of his recent alive-again status and the constant threat of Rittenhouse machinations.  Personally, she could foresee many awkward encounters that would result, and she wasn’t sure if it would help or make matters worse.  Regardless of the who and why—and the how, for that matter; where on earth had he gotten his hands on it?—nothing changed the fact that there was _mistletoe_ in the _bunker._

It wasn’t even December.

Granted, they had just gotten back from 1939 Chicago, where Emma tried very, _very_ hard to prevent the publication of _Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer_ (the book, not the song).  Apparently, in addition to the whole world domination thing she had going, Emma was a straight-up Grinch, as well.  

Lucy still wasn’t sure what Emma hoped to accomplish with that.  Sure, it was one of the most famous Christmas songs of all time, but aside from scarring generations of retail workers, she didn’t think its impact on the greater scheme of things was _that_ significant.  Maybe Emma was one of those scarred retail workers.

The idea of a teenaged Emma working retail made Lucy’s brain hurt.

At any rate, the trip to Christmastime Chicago was probably what gave the culprit (Rufus) the idea.  And given the fact that there wasn't any mistletoe within a hundred square miles of the bunker—again, probably (dammit Jim, she was a _historian,_ not a _botanist)—_ he had more than likely smuggled it back _in the Lifeboat_ from 1939.  The thought of contraband mistletoe stuffed under the Lifeboat seats was enough to make her eye twitch.

‘Is that _mistletoe?’_  

Lucy was proud of the fact that she no longer jumped when Flynn pulled his Silent Ninja Assassin routine.  Instead, she just nodded as he came up beside her to glare at the offending parasitic greenery.  ‘Yep.’

‘It’s June.’

‘Yep.’

‘Where did it _come_ from?’

She shrugged.  ‘Don’t know, but my money’s on Rufus.’

‘From the Chicago trip?’  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  ‘That makes sense, but _why?’_

‘Hey, don’t ask me.  Jiya’s the clairvoyant one, remember?’  Bumping his arm with her shoulder, she added, ‘Now, if you wanted a lecture on the history of mistletoe in American Christmas traditions, I’m your girl.’

His head snapped around and—were his ears turning pink?  He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say and shut it again, blinking at her.

She blinked back, trying to figure out what she’d said to elicit that reaction.

Finally he wet his lips and shot her a lopsided smile.  ‘I, uh, might take you up on that sometime.  Coffee?’  Without waiting for an answer, he executed a not-quite-military spin and speed walked to the kitchen.

‘Okay?’  She frowned down the empty hallway, then glared up at the mistletoe.  ‘I don’t know what that was about, but it’s probably your fault.’  She cut two fingers from her eyes up to the plant duct-taped to the ceiling in an _I’m watching you_ gesture and turned to follow Flynn.

Something that sounded like ‘ _Water Tribe!’_ floated down the hall, but that didn’t make any sense.  It was probably just her imagination.

* * *

 

Jiya might have been the one with second sight, but Lucy’s prediction turned out to be on the nose.  After several encounters including but not limited to Lucy exchanging air kisses with Jiya and one spectacularly awkward episode involving Denise and Connor, everyone took to sprinting down the hallways as quickly as possible.  Rufus, mysteriously, somehow managed to never get caught with anyone other than Jiya.  (‘We Dwarves are natural sprinters,’ Jiya said, but her sprinting was more of a stroll when Rufus was in the vicinity.  It was a conspiracy.)

Flynn, Silent Ninja Assassin that he was, avoided getting caught at all.  Lucy refused to admit that she found that anything other than mildly interesting.  It wasn’t like she’d been lurking in the hallways on the off chance he might slink by.  It _definitely_ wasn’t because she’d wondered, occasionally, what it might be like to kiss Flynn, certainly not, don’t be ridiculous, _stop laughing, Jiya._

Mistletoe was dumb.

She’d managed to more or less put the whole kerfuffle out of her mind as she puttered around their sad little kitchen, helping Flynn make dinner.  Well, ‘helping’ by sitting on the counter, sipping tea and handing him things when asked and under strict orders to not handle food at all.

You make _one_ questionable-looking sandwich for baby JFK when high on antibiotics and painkillers and you never hear the end of it.  Flynn wasn’t even _there._  

Just now she was content—mostly—watching Flynn cook and chatting about how they would use a time machine if the fate of the world and history wasn't an issue.  Honestly, Lucy was pretty much over time travel, but there were a couple of things she wanted to see and hadn't had the chance.  A frivolous side-trip every now and then might be nice, if they could trust Emma to not be, well, _Emma._

Yeah, and maybe Rufus wasn't responsible for their mistletoe infestation.

Speaking of mistletoe…

She frowned at the ceiling, Flynn's voice fading to the background.  It was understood that the kitchen was a safe, mistletoe-free zone, but _apparently_ that wasn't true anymore.  There, duct-taped to the ceiling in all its toxic glory, was a small sprig of white berries and waxy green leaves.

_Seriously?_

She cut her eyes to Flynn.  Oblivious to her inner turmoil, he was blithely sliding a tray of chopped and seasoned vegetables into the oven.  She glanced back to the ceiling.  Still there, because of course the mistletoe disappearing as abruptly as it materialized would be too easy.  Her gaze darted back to Flynn.  His burgundy turtleneck bunched and stretched over his shoulders as he opened and closed cabinets, and she chewed the inside of her lip meditatively as she watched him move.

After all the grief that stupid plant had caused them the last week, it seemed a shame to let it go to waste now.  There was no guarantee he would even _want_ to kiss her, of course—his uncanny ability to avoid being anywhere near the hallways if anyone so much as put a toe to concrete was a pretty clear indication he had no intention of kissing anyone, herself included, and yet.

And _yet._

 _That's not why I'm here_ whispered through the back of her mind, and she shivered.

‘Lucy?’  Flynn's voice pulled her out of her head and she blinked, meeting his concerned gaze.  ‘You okay?’

‘Yep!’ she answered quickly.  Too quickly.  Clearing her throat, she tried again.  ‘Yeah, I'm fine, I was just…thinking.’

‘About what?’ he asked, lips quirking in a smile.

Her eyes caught on that smile.   _Kissing you_.   Aaand nope.  She took a large gulp of tea to keep from blurting out any inopportune comments.  Maybe she could blame her blush on the heat of the tea.  ‘Nothing in particular.  Where'd you learn all this?’ she asked, waving at the kitchen.

His eyes narrowed, but he accepted the deflection.  ‘My mom, mostly.  Lorena never cared for cooking, so I took care of it whenever I was home.  Iris would help me, though,’ he added with a small laugh, fingers tracing the edge of the bowl he held.  ‘Her favourite movie was _Ratatouille_.  She loved watching Remy cook.  I had to supervise her carefully to make sure she didn't get too carried away experimenting in the kitchen.’  He smiled, a little sad, but mostly inviting her to enjoy the memory with him.

She nodded, not quite wallowing but close.  Of course he wouldn't want to kiss her, not when his goal had always been to save his wife and little girl.  She couldn't, wouldn't dishonour that, not after everything they'd been through.

And yet…  

A kiss on the cheek wouldn't hurt anyone, right?  It wouldn't be overstepping, simply…letting him know he wasn't alone, wasn't unwanted.  Wasn't unloved.

_Love?_

Flynn went to open the fridge next to her, and before she could overthink it, she leaned in.  At the last second he turned his head, and her friendly, platonic, comrade-in-arms kiss landed square on his mouth.

Lucy's brain whited out, and for a moment she couldn't hear anything over her own internal screaming.  Her hands spasmed around her mug, and a short eternity passed where that was the only movement between the two of them.  Then Flynn's hand came to rest on the counter next to her leg, surrounding her without trapping her, and his lips softened under hers.  Slowly, tentative in the way he only ever was with her, he tilted his head, allowing her to deepen the kiss if she wanted.

She _wanted_.

She sighed into his mouth, felt him smile against her as her lips parted.  They could have stayed that way forever, she knew, exchanging slow, languid kisses, lips their only point of contact.  He would never push beyond the boundaries she set, never take more than she was willing to give.

She wasn't nearly so polite.

With an inpatient grunt, she set her mug down and slung her arms around his neck, burying one hand in his infuriatingly perfect hair to tug him closer.  He let out a surprised yelp that she swallowed greedily.  Finally, _finally_ he let go of the fridge handle and wrapped both arms around her.

She had never felt so safe, so at peace as she did in that moment, locked in Flynn’s arms as they kissed each other breathless.  Distantly, she wondered if she should really still be thinking of him as Flynn when she could taste the coffee he'd had earlier on his tongue.  That seemed the sort of thing that would put them on a first-name basis.  Then he lifted a hand to cup her face with aching tenderness as he ghosted delicate kisses over her nose and eyelids, and she decided proper names was Future Lucy's problem.

His six-foot-ridiculous height meant that even sitting on the counter she was shorter than him, but it did give her the advantage of not getting a crick in her neck.  Even better, it gave her just the right angle to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw that made him suck in a shuddering breath.

She was just trying to decide if she wanted to work her way down to his pulse point or back up to his lips when—

‘Oh, for the love of—Dying was traumatic enough, I _don't_ need any additional emotional scarring!’

They broke apart to see Rufus, who was staring at them like they'd just told him George Lucas was a Rittenhouse sleeper.  Jiya stood next to him, hugging his arm.

‘I told you they were a thing!’  She was grinning as wide as the time they'd come back from the sixties with three new seasons of _Star Trek._  ‘Didn't take a vision, either!  I saw it happening right under your very cute nose!’ she added, booping said nose.

Flynn— _Garcia_ —laughed, resting his forehead against hers and _oh,_ that was lovely.  It was nice to be able to enjoy it without anyone trying to kill them.  ‘Rufus,’ he said, voice gravely and accent thicker than usual, ‘your girlfriend just might be smarter than all of us.’

‘Yeah,’ Rufus huffed, half exasperation, half pride.  ‘Tell me something I don't know.  C'mon, Jiya.  I think there's some bleach in the bathroom.  I need to wash my eyes.’

Jiya let him pull her down the hall.  ‘How about we cleanse your eyes with some _Clone Wars_ instead.  But don't forget I get to pick our covers for the next two trips.’

‘Oh no, not _Lord of the Rings_ characters again!’  Lucy exchanged a grin with Garcia as the argument got fainter.  ‘No one in history will take you seriously if you introduce yourself as Galadriel.’

‘I'll let you be Aragorn.’

‘...fine.’

‘Aw man.’  Garcia’s whisper made Lucy shiver.  ‘I wanted to be Aragorn.’

‘Nah.’  Her voice was breathy, and she couldn't bring herself to care.  Especially not when he was planting tiny kisses along the shell of her ear.  ‘You're more of a Beren.  Too stubborn to quit,’ she let her head tilt as he worked down the line of her jaw, ‘made almost entirely of sass,’ his hands were on her hips, and where was she going with this again? ‘—and would absolutely fight a giant wolf.’

She felt him grin against the crook of her neck.  ‘If I had a Glock, I could take him.’  She smacked the back of his head and he pulled back, laughing.  ‘Does that make you Luthien?’  He was smiling, but his eyes were nervous.

‘Depends.  Are you going to make me bring you back from the Halls of Mandos?’

His tongue darted across his lips and her eyes dropped to follow the motion.  ‘Would you?’

‘Always.’  She fisted both hands in his sweater and pulled his lips back to hers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dinner was a little singed, but anytime Rufus started to complain, Jiya stomped on his foot. He was also puzzled about how that particular sprig got in the kitchen, since he only rigged the hallways. Jiya just grinned smugly and plotted their next covers.
> 
> Flynn had the same idea as Lucy - suuuuper platonic cheek kiss. They managed to outwit each other, leading to 500+ words of Garcy makeout. I have no regrets.
> 
> I feel like I should apologize for the Tolkien references at the end, but I'm not gonna. Giant Murder Nerd Flynn would absolutely love all things Middle Earth, and it would be right up Rebellious Band Geek Lucy's alley (especially defeating the Big Bad through the Power of Song). Hit me up on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/taleasoldastime-andspace) if you want me to yell at you about these and other Garcy/Beren&Luthien parallels, of which I have many.
> 
> Happy Timeless Day!


End file.
